


as our god wills it

by Lord_Maple



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Multi, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Suicide Attempt, suicide ideation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-23 23:01:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30062892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lord_Maple/pseuds/Lord_Maple
Summary: They say that it was an ancient curse— one that predates the creation of Garreg Mach, the War of Heroes, and even the Goddess herself. Although it was the goddess’s light that vanquished the darkness, it’s remnants remained in the form of a mark between two fated souls. These mark-bearers are called soulmates for it is said that they are destined to be the perfect couple, if not for the curse’s taint.It was the same story every time: one is fated to kill the other. Sometimes the murderer cannot bear the guilt and takes their own life. Sometimes they live out their lives in misery.As time went on, the infamous soulmate curse has dwindled in cases, and although it has not been forgotten, it became a thing of the past. For the last few centuries, not one person was reported to bear a ‘soulmark’.That is until it manifested in two boys: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd and Claude von Riegan.======AU where soulmates are destined to kill each other
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan, minor Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth - Relationship
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22
Collections: Dimiclaude Big Bang 2020





	1. Prologue I: Childhood

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Dimiclaude BB 2020.
> 
> All of my thanks to my BB partners: @akartjay, @sazhimii, and @tbhzack, for providing the art!

There is a secret kept under lock and key by the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, one that could shake the balance of power if it ever became public knowledge. The secret is this: the prince was born with an ancient curse— an infamous one that has no cure.

It started with a nightmare of sorts. Tiny, five-year-old Dimitri was wandering in the darkness— a warm, all-enveloping darkness that can’t seem to end. It was all thick and liquidy as if he was bathing in soup or gravy or something tasty like that, but it didn’t smell good like food so can’t say he liked it that much. He could breathe just fine, but as the boy sank deeper and deeper, the pull of gravity became stronger and stronger. Dimitri felt like a rock dropped from the tippy-top of the castle— falling from the sky like an angel tripping over heaven and into a bottomless pit. It’s freeing and yet… when will it be over?

When he opened his eyes to look at the bottom of the darkness, he saw stretched-out hands. Hundreds of human hands started grabbing him and when he tried to scream, it was muffled when one covered his mouth with a grip so tight it hurts. The noises are getting louder, like the unpleasant wailing of nails on a chalkboard.

Dimitri felt hot tears spilling out of his eyes, praying for someone— for Father, Glenn, Gustave— for someone to save him, but then a spark of light flickered before him. It took on a strange shape, like a random squiggle he absentmindedly drew on the edge of his homework. Without a shred of thought, he reached out for it and then—

He was looking up into the ceiling. He woke up from his dream. He touched his cheek and felt the wetness of his tears.

If this was a normal nightmare, the story would end there, but unfortunately for the little prince, it was not so. A bright mark burned painlessly on the back of his right hand. It was the same squiggle-like design he saw in his dream. Little Dimitri thought back on what just happened. Unlike other dreams, he remembers what happened in the dream with clarity. If he remembers, surely that means it’s real. If it’s real, then wasn’t it this mark the thing that saved him from those hands— woke him up from his nightmare?

The prince smiled and pecked the mark with a kiss.  _ Thank you for saving me _ , he thought. The mark dimmed a tad, but it didn’t fully disappear. 

Naturally, as a little boy, his first thought was to show off this glowing mark of his to his father, but unfortunately, he left the castle yesterday to do adult things with Felix’s dad or something. Gustave would scold him if he saw him staying up so late, angry lines deepening his frown. It’s around midnight after all, far past Dimitri’s bedtime, but little Dimitri, with all of his exciting childlike energy, ignores this rule just this once just for this because, well, Felix would find this to be cool, right? He jumped out of his bed and went towards the door. The knob was too high for his tiny arms, so he stacked some books to gain some height. No one is standing guard in front of his door today, so he was easily able to sneak out. 

But there was a small problem… Dimitri forgot which room Felix was staying in. He and Glenn came with Rodrigue and then... he’s pretty sure they’re somewhere in the castle. Then, Dimitri thought, “If you don’t know something, go to the library! It has all sorts of information!” That’s what Dimitri’s tutor said to him, and Dimitri knows where the library is, so he makes the beeline there… quietly. Don’t want to make too much noise. Dimitri doesn’t like books too much so he doesn’t go there often, but sometimes the nice librarian reads tales about Loog and Kyphon— Blaiddyd and Fraldarius. Felix said that he’ll always stay by Dimitri’s side just like Kyphon did for Loog. Glenn snitched on them for staying up past their bedtime to play. Cool stories are cool like Felix. Boring books are bad like Glenn. That’s why Glenn won’t see his cool squiggle thing and Felix will.

When Dimitri tip-toed his way to the library, he realized the door was locked. The map of the castle isn’t hard to find in there, but, well, he’ll need to get inside to see it. Dimitri knows that he’s strong— stronger than even some adults, but breaking the door means noise, and noise means angry adults, and angry adults mean trouble and trouble means disappointment from Father and that’s bad. Dimitri hates it when Father’s face looks at him that way so he doesn’t break the door. He just breaks the doorknob only. If using strength to make noise means trouble, then using less strength to make less noise means less trouble, right? Although the sound carried on to echo through the hallways, Dimitri walked in unconcerned.

The map was exactly where he remembered it— right on the big table in the middle of the big library where people come by to read and write. Castle Blaiddyd is Dimitri’s home, but because it’s so big, there are places where even Dimitri doesn’t visit. For example, there are a lot of offices that important people use and they said that Dimitri shouldn’t go in them because he might interrupt the important people from doing important things. There are also the private quarters that Dimitri rarely goes to because the royal suites are all in their own special wing, or in other words, Dimitri’s and his father’s rooms are next to each other, separate from everyone else’s. 

The young prince’s eyes wander around the old sheet of paper before it zeroes onto the east wing labeled “guest quarters”. Felix would be staying there, right? Dimitri would like to bring the map with him so that he doesn’t get lost, but… it’s a bit big for him to carry. The map is about twice as wide as the five-year-old’s arm span. Removing it is also against the rules, so….

Before Dimitri could even attempt to memorize the path, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

“Hey.”

“Bwa—!”

Dimitri turned immediately and would’ve let out a terrible scream if a certain somebody’s hand didn’t slap his mouth shut. 

“Calm down, kid. It’s just me.”

Ah. It’s Glenn. 

As Dimitri gradually stops struggling, Glenn lets him go. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

Dimitri panicked to come up with a proper lie and ended up doing what he does best: telling the truth because that’s what good boys do. “...I-I was looking for Fewix.”

“The crybaby is a heavy sleeper. Don’t bother with him.” For all the things Felix cries about, a thunderstorm in the middle of the night isn’t one of them if he’s out cold anyways. Different story if he isn’t though. Glenn took one step to glance at the map Dimitri was looking at earlier. “You do know that we’re staying at the rooms down the hallway, right? Turn left from this library, go down, and that’s where we are.”

“Oh! Thanks Gwenn!” Just when Dimitri was about to take his leave, the older boy grasps his wrist.

“Hold it, squirt. Didn’t you just hear me? Whatever it is you’re trying to do, can’t it wait till morning? We’re not leaving anytime soon.” Glenn sighs. “Good thing I caught you before you did anything. I heard you rip that doorknob all the way from my room, you know? You’re not slick, Dima.”

The tiny prince could only pout. It’s always Glenn who does things like this. Felix is cuter because Felix doesn’t do the things Glenn does.

Just when Glenn is about to drag the prince back to his room, his eyes are drawn towards a certain glowing mark.

“What’s that on your hand?”

Dimitri kept his lips tight on this one. He already promised himself to tell Felix first! He can’t go back on his resolve so easily!

However, fate had different plans for him. Keeping his voice down, Glenn whispers, “I think I’ve seen this before actually… wait, I got it! Follow me!” Glenn turned away from the prince and ran up the stairs to the library’s second floor, leaving the little boy to follow the older boy’s pace. Glenn then turned right towards the shelves that contain children’s books— the ones with pictures in Dimitri’s mind. As Glenn slows down to look through the books, Dimitri does as well.

“What are you looking for, Gwenn?”

“A book. I think I’ve seen that mark in one of these books… ah, here it is!” Glenn pulls out a thin, red book. The cover has two hands reaching out for each other with the title ‘The Lovers and His Will’ on top in plain white font. More importantly, the mark on the hands is the same squiggle as Dimitri’s! … Kind of. The marks shown on the books are clearer than Dimitri’s squiggle— a shape that little Dima thinks is akin to a shooting star.

“Gwenn! Read it for me! Um, please!”

“Yeah, yeah, Your Highness. Just quiet down. I’m curious myself, you know.” Glenn opens to the first page before closing it again. “Actually, let’s go sit somewhere. There’s a spot for that, right?” Near the children’s bookshelves, there is a place where the librarian read books to the young Dimitri before, so he led Glenn. It’s a comfy place where they sit on fluffy, fluffy pillows as the nice lady tells cool knight stories— inspiration for the games Dimitri and friends play together. Maybe this story will be the same?

Once they get comfy themselves, Glenn starts reading out loud. He’s only ten, but the articulation of his voice was comparable to a person much older than his age. Public speaking is important in noble society even in Faerghus, where training in the art of combat holds more weight in noble society compared to the rest of Fodlan. A children’s book like this is nothing for Glenn.

Dimitri follows the words on the pages as Glenn speaks.

“ _ Once upon a time, there was darkness. There was no light, sound, or form— it was only a dark, cloudless ocean and a lifeless land we now know as Fodlan. One day, the goddess descended from her star and banished the darkness with her holy light, creating life as we know it. The animals, the plants, the sky, the humans— the goddess gifted these blessings and some more for the humans who desired power. The darkness retreated to a land far away. _ ”

So far, the story just looked like a shortened version of the goddess’s arrival, which Glenn already kind of knew about, but when he glanced toward the prince, it’s clear that this is the first time little Dima is hearing about this. Well, he supposes that noble kids in Faerghus are first taught their knightly values before any church writings unless their family is closely related to said church, so Glenn supposes that this is a given. When he turned to the next page, there’s a picture of the mark again.

“ _ However, even the goddess couldn’t erase every trace. One day, the ancient darkness touched the earth once more, crawling from the north. It was driven away once again, but this time, it was by the hand of the goddess’s chosen warriors— the Heroes led by Nemesis. Before the darkness perished for good, it left one final curse: ‘I will taint the thing humans cherish most: the meaning of love.’ _ ”

Dimitri’s eyebrows furrow with confusion. “... the meaning of love? Gwenn, what does that mean?”

“Don’t know, Your Highness. Let’s keep reading, okay? Uh, I was… here.  _ When the darkness faded away, a glowing mark was left on various lovers and future lovers of Fodlan. That mark would later be called a ‘soulmark’ because it represents the bonds between soulmates. _ ”

Dimitri perked up at the word ‘soulmark’ and glanced towards the back of his right hand. “So this is a… soulmark?” 

“...I guess so.” What else could it be?

Glenn could see Dimitri’s eyes lighting up at the revelation. “And my soulmate is supposed to have one too, right? Like Loog and Kyphon?” 

“Er, not exactly, Dima. It’s a… different kind of soulmate. One meant for lovers, er, for you and the future queen.” Glenn bumbles around his words as he remembers reading this one weird book that described the famed King of Lions and his Shield as a bit more than ‘platonic soulmates’, but he pushes that to the back of his mind when Dimitri starts talking again.

“Then, like how dad used to be with mom? I think Father called her that one time.”

“...Yeah, that.” It’s not a secret how much King Lambert loved the late queen. Dimitri’s mother died from the plague not long after Dimitri’s birth, so he doesn’t have many memories of her growing up. Good for them for growing up in an age where the plague has been mostly subdued, but it’s a shame Cornelia’s work was a tad too late. Glenn clears his throat. “So, whoever has this mark is probably going to be your queen— the person you love.”

It’s a foreign concept for a ten-year-old and a five-year-old to fully grasp, not because they don’t know it exists but because the nuances of romantic love don’t register beyond “married couples are in love”. Glenn is engaged to Ingrid, so he knows that they are supposed to be in love at some point, but….

Dimitri closes his eyes in thought. “My… queen? Then… hmm…”

“What is it?”

In a low whisper, Dimitri says, “What if… Fewix was my queen?”

Glenn choked on his own spit.

“I mean! I like Fewix a lot. Like, a lot, a lot. And Fewix is cute so—“

“Sorry, Your Highness, but it’s not Felix. I didn’t see the mark on him.” Ignoring the part with Felix being ‘cute’, Glenn just wanted Dimitri to drop the possibility— never mind the fact that Felix might’ve manifested the soulmark when Glenn wasn’t looking.

Dimitri looked at him like a sad puppy.

“Let’s… just go on. I don’t like how this mark came from this darkness thing.” Right, this might be a bad thing from how the story is going. Glenn turned the page. The picture was what looks to be black people-shaped blobs in distress. “ _ The soulmarks are all the same in shape, an irregular spiral, but the mark only glows brightly when the correct pair of soulmates hold hands. Many people were happy to find their soulmates this way, unaware of the danger the mark represents. Tragedy after tragedy, these couples break apart by murder and grief. The soulmark was a curse: a curse to doom the pair as star-crossed lovers destined to kill each other. As broken hearts littered Fodlan, the people had no choice but to turn to the goddess help once more. _ ”

Dimitri looked at Glenn like an even sadder puppy. “I don’t want Fewix to be my soulmate anymore.”

“...Yeah.” There were some pages left, so there might be a happy ending. Glenn turned the page. The picture this time is a distressed figure that looks to be the goddess and a blue-haired boy reaching out to her. “ _ The goddess heard the cries of the people and tried to use her holy light once more, but she could not. This is because, for all of the goddess’s power, she realized a terrible truth: the only way to remove the curse for good is to take away humanity’s ability to love itself! The goddess’s kindness would never allow her to take away such a precious thing, and so for a long time, she too was approaching despair. _ ”

“Eh?! The goddess couldn’t do anything?!” If the goddess couldn’t eliminate the curse, is Dimitri doomed to be murdered?!

“Shhh! Hold your horses, Dima! Look at this paragraph.  _ However, a spark of hope flickered to life when the goddess was approached by a young prince named Mars. He was a clever and kind boy who bore the soulmark on his right hand. He approached the goddess for help, not for a wistful prayer, but for her to bring his plan to life— to break the soulmate curse.”  _ Glenn isn’t an expert in history, but if the goddess is still around, then shouldn’t this story be taking place before the War of Heroes? If so, the Adrestian Empire isn’t a thing yet, so what country is Mars a prince of? Dimitri tugs on Glenn’s sleeve when he isn’t turning the page, so Glenn forces himself to shake those thoughts away. It’s just a children’s story anyway. Accuracy isn’t a priority.

The next page has two blue-haired figures holding hands: one boy, Mars presumably, and one girl. “ _ ‘There is nothing I can do, child. I, The Beginning, cannot alter what is fate, for what’s sealed in the future cannot be altered no matter how much you change the past.’ said the goddess. The goddess’s domain over time and life cannot overrule the force of fate without a price, so the young boy said, ‘If not fate, overcome death. If my love is destined to end in death, then bring it back to life. If it ends in tragedy a second time, then bring us back once again, because as long as we and you continue to exist, miracles are possible.’ The goddess, who believed that death is the natural end of the living, was shocked to hear the young prince’s words. This young man believed that his bond with his soulmate was strong enough to surpass death, and so, the goddess, who was moved by his words and faith in his lover, despite the nature of his curse, agreed. She thought long and hard— and so, she devised a method for Mars and his soulmate, Sheila, to fall in love after death: reincarnation.” _

“We-- Reincarnation? What is reincarnation, Gwenn?”

“It says here on the next page, Dimitri.” The next page has a diagram where arrows are circling between two figures. “ _ Reincarnation is to be born again after death. Good boys and girls return to the goddess’s home when they pass away normally, but if they somehow remained here in Fodlan, the goddess can use her powers to give them a second life: one where they aren’t bound by the shackles of tragedy attached to their earthly bodies. To achieve this goal, she tells Mars to help her build twin towers in the Oghma Mountains: ‘The Towers of Reincarnation’, where cursed souls will go and face the goddess’s mercy, purifying them, and are born again.” _

Glenn grimaced. It looks like the solution they’re proposing is death. That… doesn’t bode well for the prince. He turned the page once again. The picture is presumably the twin towers. “ _ Mars followed the goddess’s will and ordered his people to build the towers by the goddess’s command. Meanwhile, Sheila, who was a princess of another kingdom, felt neglected and forgotten after Mars departed with a promise that he’ll see her again. Because of the tragic string of fate that binds the two together, all of Mars’s messages about his intentions in Fodlan failed to reach her by the most unlikely of accidents, and so, Sheila believed her lover to have abandoned her. After years and years of waiting, wrought with both madness and grief, she traveled far and wide for Mars, dagger in hand. Right before the fated meeting, the towers have been completed, and when Mars sees Sheila’s anger, he whispers his apologies and accepts death by her hand. Sheila herself toppled over the tower’s top, and fell to her death not long after, dying next to her love’s body just as she wished with a heavy heart. The goddess takes their two souls and as promised, gives them life once again. The Towers of Reincarnation from then on had individual names: Mars’s Tower to the west, and Sheila’s Tower to the east.” _

The last page had a picture of a happy couple and although it’s supposed to be a happy ending, Glenn couldn’t help but have a heavy heart from the implications of this book. Still, he presses on to read the epilogue. “ _ Although the goddess has long left this world to return to her home after the betrayal of Nemesis, the Towers of Reincarnation stand to this day, proof that love outlived the darkness’s curse. Centuries later, not one bears a soulmark to this day and it was said that a pair of lovers, Mars and Sheila led their new lives freely, grew old, and passed with content hearts—  _ Ah dammit!” Dimitri froze in place from Glenn’s sudden outburst. He threw the book across the room, hitting a nearby shelf.

“Listen, Dimitri.” Glenn grasps both of the prince’s tiny hands and puts them together. Glenn is serious— that much is clear to little Dima. “Let’s go back to sleep. When you wake up, we’ll go to Lady Cornelia and check in what this mark of yours means for sure.”

“Lady… Cornelia?”

“She’s the royal mage, right? She’d know lots of things, but she’s not awake now. Hurry, back to bed you go.” 

“But, the book—“

“Forget about it. It’s just a kid’s story, not a textbook. It’s probably all just made up.” With that, Dimitri stopped resisting and let the pull of Glenn’s hand drag him back to his room. Even so, it was hard for Little Dima to sleep. Mars and Sheila… Dimitri wonders if he were in their shoes, which one would he be?

Idle thoughts like that occupied his mind until daybreak, and it was only then did the prince slip into his dreamscape.

* * *

It was near daybreak when Prince Khalid saw the mark on his left hand-- a strangle squiggle-like mark, glowing a soft blue hue against his skin. No pain, which is a good sign, but that’s about it. It glitters like a naive concept of what magic is from a child.

He didn’t need to muse over what he needed to do-- he needed to go straight for his mother. “It may be a Fodlan thing just like his ‘crest’,” he thought. If not, then it’s probably a hex that his mother is familiar with. His mother is the strongest and smartest person he knows-- she’ll know for certain. But first, he must wait. Enemies lurk in the corners.

Pacing through the halls of the royal palace now will inevitably cause him to run into one of his siblings. He can’t predict the movements of every single detractor present in the palace except for one instance: the morning prayer to the sun. Masters and servants alike must attend by order of the king, including the royal family. The whole process is done with extreme care and no one would dare cause disorder during a sacred ritual such as this, so it’s one of the few times where Khalid feels confident that he’ll be safe. After it is over, he’ll make a beeline for his mother. 

The boy sighs. What a hassle. People say that there is a reason for everything— that nothing is purposeless. He can’t bring himself to accept that as truth, not when the hatred of others hangs on his shoulders like a useless burden.

That being said, such plans aren’t necessary if Khalid can take care of it himself, so he takes out his collections of books on magic for a brief investigation (which are all stolen from the library so that he doesn’t have to move back and forth and risk encountering anyone with unsavory intentions) since glowing marks aren’t exactly a symptom of poison, so that could be marked off. Despite his ineptitude and disinterest to perform magic well, knowledge is useful when you know who to go to. So, he read. The lack of concern for whether Prince Khalid eats breakfast or not works to his advantage. Being interrupted and caught off guard is the last thing he wants.

As Khalid skims through the pages, he couldn’t find a lick on what exactly this glowing mark of his. Hours pass and before long, breakfast time comes to an end, and morning prayer will start soon. Khalid realizes he forgot to make himself presentable and rushed to put on the proper attire-- fine, colorful silks with intricate patterns wrapping loosely around his body like a robe. It’s fitting for a prince and Khalid feels like he’s a mockery compared to his own outfit.

His siblings would agree, not that Khalid appreciates it.

Before he turned the doorknob, he noticed that the very mark he bears is rather… noticeable. The blue glow contrasts his skin tone heavily and he can’t wave it off as a tattoo. Unwanted attention is the enemy— any inquiry will inevitably lead to some form of backfire against the prince’s reputation no matter what he says, so before leaving, Khalid grabs for an inconspicuous pair of black gloves.

Then, Nader came knocking in.

“You awake, kiddo?”

“I was just about to leave.” Right when Khalid took his first step out of his room, Nader shoves a loaf of fresh bread into his face. It’s nothing special in the palace, but Khalid knows that it’s considered high class by normal standards-- something about this kind of bread taking several days and some to make? Whatever, good bread is good. He snatches it off of the man’s hands and takes a big bite.

“You skipped breakfast again, so I picked this up for you. You’re going to need to eat well if you’re gonna have the energy for training today.” Once again, the face of mild concern paints Nader’s face. He’s one of the few allies Khalid has since he, for some bizarre reason, considered his siblings too boring for his tastes. Or, perhaps the real reason is that he’s doing this out of respect for his mother, who pummeled him in a fair duel. Regardless, despite being a “total brat” in his words, it’s clear to Khalid that he must hold some fondness for him. He doesn’t wish to test its limits. Rare things are not meant to be disposed of so flippantly.

“I know, I know-- especially with you as the instructor.” Nader doesn’t go easy and although he’s friendly enough, he can’t say he enjoyed the soreness. “That’s proof that it’s working!” he says. Sure, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

“In all seriousness, kid, what’s bothering you now?”

“Hmm?”

“The last time this happened there was… something about a shitty death threat from one of your younger brothers? New drama on your plate?” Ah, yeah. That.

“First off, it was technically from an overprotective servant of one of my brothers. Nasir isn’t the eloquent type-- especially given how many classes he skipped out on language. Secondly, it has nothing to do with them this time. Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“...Actually, I’m not sure. Couldn’t figure out what it was, so I’m thinking of asking Ma after prayer.” Khalid stretches his left glove to give Nader a peek of what he’s talking about. “Unless you recognize what this is?”

“Hmm? Oh, nah. It just looks like a pretty tattoo if you ask me.”

Khalid raises a single eyebrow. “A glowing tattoo that randomly appeared overnight, huh?”

“Dunno, magic isn’t my forté. I remember trying to read a book on reason once and after 10 minutes of trying, I threw it out the window, hah!”

Nader’s questionable attempt of humor aside, he seems sincere enough. Really, Khalid should’ve known better than to expect anything from him considering the kind of person Nader is, but that’s all the more reason to ask Ma. The two proceed to walk down the halls towards the throne room.

By the time Khalid arrived, it seemed like the set-up for the prayer was still in progress— about halfway done. For some reason, it seems like they are running late. At the back of the room, only half of his siblings appear to be present, mostly the younger ones. Next to them were the queens of Almyra— all three of them to be exact. The rightmost was his mother, Queen Tiana, who was fiddling with her thumbs and tapping her foot. She was never one for patience or sitting still. The intricate braids and silky dresses don’t suit her as well as a decent set of armor.

Khalid looks towards where Nader was, but he was already gone. He looks side to side and sees that his instructor was dragged off to rush the preparations while Khalid wasn’t looking. Great. But, perhaps this is his chance. The boy walks towards his mother and soon enough, she glances towards him and sighs.

“It’s about time you got here. Lucky for you that one of your brothers decided to be an idiot today and single-handedly held back the prayer for about an hour. Your dad is going to have a stern word with him later.”

One of his brothers did that? Khalid looks around the room and sees that there doesn’t seem to be any juvenile vandalism and the like going on, so what could it be? “Which one? And why?”

“Irfan, I think. One of Gamila’s brats.” Tiana didn’t bother keeping her voice down despite the other queens being right next to her. She isn’t afraid of them at all because once it comes down to a fistfight, she’s confident to take them all down. However, the room was too noisy for Queen Gamila to hear as she was conversing with someone else, so at the very least, it’s less trouble to deal with. 

Khalid’s eyes widened with surprise. “Irfan? What did he do?” Khalid wouldn’t say he had a good relationship with him, but he liked him a little more than some of the others because he didn’t try to bother him. In fact, Khalid suspects that he has no interest in the crown at all. He comes off as an introverted sort of guy— bookish and shy, so what kind of trouble did he pull?

“This is just hearsay, but apparently it involved a girl.”

The prince froze, then blinked twice. “A what?”

“Romance, my son. Romance. Either little Irfan is less shy than I thought, or this girl has a very specific taste in men, hah.” Tiana chuckled. “Though, I don’t know how long it’ll last after this. A tiny little lover’s quarrel blew up into something huge when some of your other brothers tried to start up some drama. Turns out this girl happened to be the daughter of a criminal. Something about attempted blackmail, I think? Things got worse when your brother pulled out a knife of all things and well, to put it simply, clean up wasn’t a pretty matter. Spicy story, I tell ya. They do say to be careful of the quiet ones.” Tiana spoke casually, but Khalid could detect irritation behind her voice. He doesn’t feel like unpacking what that means.

“Yeesh.” Irfan with a girl is already a surreal thought to Khalid alone but the image of Irfan running around with a bloody knife down the halls is downright terrifying. That does explain why half of his brothers aren’t present though. His quarters aren’t close to theirs by Khalid’s request, so it’s no wonder he didn’t hear a peep. 

“The girl is fine if anything, but it looks like she’s having a hard time talking at all now. Love is a dangerous thing, you know? I don’t know what Galima’s kid is going to do to deal with it, but I guess one could say it’s a trial of sorts. Relationships have highs and lows and despite how… odd it is, one could call it a test of their love or whatever.” She sighs. “I don’t know, I’m just spitting out words.”

“What would you do in his shoes then?” Khalid knows the story of his mother and father’s meeting. A bit too well, honestly. Seeing his mom talk about love trials reminds him of the whole thing with his mom eloping and stuff.

“Me? Well, ideally I wouldn’t settle for a weak partner in the first place— a partner who would be bothered by the type of guy who is all bark and no bite. But if the person in question was an actual threat? Yeah, I’ll just beat them up with my fists. Simple.”

“So like Irfan?”

Tiana shrugs. “I think Irfan actually tried to kill his brother. Faizan almost died with the number of stab wounds he got. I don’t think I would go that far if the threat in question was my bro. I’d incapacitate him… gently.”

“Ah.” Khalid vaguely recalls Tiana mentioning his uncle in Fodlan. She didn’t talk much about him though… he’s getting distracted. There’s a reason why he went to talk to her in the first place. After making sure no one was watching, Khalid gives his mother a peek at his mysterious mark.

“I wanted to ask you about this,” he says with a lowered voice. “This appeared overnight. Do you know what it is, Ma?”

Tiana leans forward to look at what her son is talking about and after a few moments, she blinked in realization “Ah.”

“Ah?” Khalid was unable to read his mother’s expression. It didn’t look neutral… but not quite concerned? No, it's doubt, isn't it? Concern and doubt-- like she isn’t sure the answer she came to is correct.

“There is this… well, I have heard of a tale back in Fodlan describes something similar to this… but it’s just a tale.” Tiana scratches the back of her head. It’s uncharacteristic of her to have that uncertain look on her face. He doesn’t want to admit it, but… it kind of scares him.

But, he needs to know. “I don’t have any other leads, Ma.”

“Then… to put it simply, there’s a tale about a curse that supposedly died off centuries ago back in Fodlan. The ‘soulmate’ curse was what it was called.”

“Soul...mate?”

“Yeah, as in a romantic soulmate. In some other place in the world, there’s a person with a matching mark on one of their hands, just like you. Apparently, the curse is that you guys are a pair of star-crossed lovers— one that’s destined to kill each other or some shit like that.” He could tell that his mother is trying to keep the atmosphere light with her choice of words, but her expression and tone betray her true feelings.

“That… sounds ridiculous, Ma.” Sure, Khalid has heard of bizarre curses before, but this is so… painfully specific? To die in such a specific way… he can only imagine that an equally bizarre and unhinged individual would create it.

Unfortunately, Tiana didn’t double down on her initial doubts, as if the more she thought about it, the more likely it seemed to her. “It is, but... how do I say this? Before I met your father, I was the type of teenage girl who indulged in fiction. Romance novels were the only kind of books I could stand reading, honestly. One of the books referenced the soulmate curse as a plot device to cause some spicy angst and, well, I fell into a rabbit hole when I actually tried to research it on a whim. I think the curse is— no, it’s definitely real, Khalid, and… I don’t think there’s a cure.”

“...” Khalid wasn’t sure what to think about that, but his mother looks deadly serious. It would be foolish to say something like ‘you’re joking’ when she looks at him in the eyes like that. Killed by his lover? What? The idea of falling in love never even hit the boy.

He thinks of Irfan who just went mad over love just this morning. Would it be like that, except the knife is pointed at him? By someone who should be the closest to him? He doesn’t like that idea. He doesn’t like that at all.

A rare glimmer of pity and hope shines in his mother’s eyes. He doesn’t know how he feels about it. 

“...To be clear, there are multiple possible endings to this. Some end with a murder-suicide, where one murder then kills themselves in grief, but there are also cases where the other lives on after the tragedy. Khalid, my son, I don’t know who your supposed other half is, but I want you to live. No matter what, okay?” Tiana’s firm words shake Khalid out of his stupor. An obvious form of affection of her is rare, but Khalid knows that deep inside, his mother cares in her own way. She grasps his left hand with both of her own. Khalid puts his right hand over hers.

“...I know. I wasn’t planning otherwise.” After all the harassment from his brothers and the jeering from strangers, if there is one thing Khalid wants to do, it’s to live. He wants to live because there are things he wants to do, yes, but a deeper, darker part of him wants to live simply out of spite. Labels like ‘coward’ and ‘weakling’ don’t mean anything if he lives on as himself, especially once he’s on the top of Almyran society. And when he finally dies, he wants to live in the annals of history— to be known as a king who changed Almyra— no, the world, for the better. Because he wants to live as such, he can’t let himself be killed, even if it means he has to harden his heart to kill his supposed soulmate.

Khalid will live for sure. Forever and ever.

The young prince makes his way to his proper position for the prayer of the sun. Irfan and some of his other brothers still haven't made it back yet. However, his dad, the king of Almyra, is here, his face not betraying a single indication of the incident this morning. He rings the bell to start and so, prayer begins with a recitation of scripture and the sound of strings.

The sun will rise no matter what happens, and Khalid wants to live to see it rise again tomorrow.


	2. Prologue II: Departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wrapping up the prologue with lots of Cornelia o3o

Dimitri couldn’t sleep. 

How could he? Even at his age, he understood that the only thing waiting at the end are nightmares. He can’t do it— he can’t bring himself to sleep after what happened in Duscur even with his sore limbs weeping in agony. The phantom pain of being burned remains despite his closed-up wounds.

He looked towards his left to see the other person in the room. The boy he saved— Dedue, that’s what he said his name was— is sleeping soundly beside him. It’s a good thing that he managed to do that, but Dimitri suspects in a deep part of his mind that if he wasn’t already exhausted, he would be wide awake as well. He knows… he knows that just like him, Dedue had lost so much, perhaps even more than him and despite that, the royal palace will never be a warm place for him. It is for that precise reason that he’s by Dimitri’s side and not in his own guest room; almost every bit of trust the young prince had once laid onto the knights and castle staff was destroyed when no one heeded his call when he screamed for Duscur’s innocence. He gets it that he is just a child at the end, that he still has so much to learn about the world, but even so— even so…!

They’re fools— all of them. How callous and blind adults can be!

Dimitri clenched his fists and forced himself to not punch a wall. He mustn’t disturb Dedue’s much-needed rest. It’s just frustrating. Gustave’s loyalty wasn’t enough to stop the massacre that followed and Rodrigue… couldn’t make it in time to even hear his words. It has been a few days since the flames that lit Duscur disintegrated little Dimitri’s world. So much has changed in such little time….

Then, a knock on the door. A soft, familiar voice rang out.

“Little princeling? It’s me.”

“...Miss Cornelia?” Dimitri hesitated. He heard that Cornelia was busy patching up injured soldiers and the last time he saw her was, well, before the Tragedy actually. He’s sure that she or some other medic must’ve healed him, but he was unconscious during that time and not long after he woke up, he ran back out to Duscur’s remains. Since no one was willing to lend a hand to heal Dedue, he wasn’t sure if Cornelia thought the same as him, even if she was so nice to him in the past….

She must’ve sensed the young prince’s apprehension for she followed up with, “I know about the Duscur boy. You wish to protect him, yes?”

Dimitri perked up. “You… you won’t hurt him?”

“I promise. You were always such a kind-hearted boy… I won’t do anything bad to him. In fact, I heard that no one went to help such a helpless little thing— not one of my subordinates! Can I come in to check up on him? For his sake?”

The joy pooling inside of Dimitri’s heart swelled up. Finally! Someone who understands him! Dimitri was quick to open the door and Cornelia’s familiar figure entered the room.

“Dedue is sleeping right now, Miss Cornelia…. Is that okay?”

“It’ll be alright. Dedue is his name, is it? I’m surprised you two manage to understand each other. Those of Duscur speak a different language from us, do they not?”

“We… manage.” Cornelia removed the blanket covering the Duscur boy carefully and let a holy light envelop him. It was not necessary to remove his clothes to see that there were amateur attempts of first aid— likely done by the prince himself.

“Um… can I ask you a question? Please?”

“Go right ahead, Your Highness.”

“Why do the adults… why did everyone not listen to me? You are the first to not…” Call him delusional? Call him a fool or an idiot? He was the one who was there! So why?!

“I can only speculate, Your Highness, but if I may speak freely… did you know what your late father, King Lambert, desired the most?”

“...What my father desired the most?”

“It was to be a savior. He was so desperate to save those in need that he clung to what he believes in with, for lack of a better word, unrelenting stubbornness. And that’s not a bad thing, but…” Cornelia sighs. “Not everyone agrees with his views, especially regarding those from the outside like Duscur.”

Dimitri could barely comprehend the idea as he looked down onto his hands. “Father… Father said that he just wants to be better friends with them….”

“Even though we were officially allies, those in the castle are scared of the outside, so they didn’t like what your father planned. Perhaps… they thought this would happen. Perhaps they thought, ‘this is exactly what I expected from those Duscur dogs, so it must be them!’ Or something like that.” Cornelia smiled, but the prince was too absorbed with himself to notice.

“I… I don’t understand. You’re saying that they don’t listen to me because they rather believe in… something they made up before someone else’s word— even if they know so little.”

“Some adults are so prideful, aren’t they? So much so that they believe their ignorance is just as valuable as your knowledge.” Cornelia lifts the boy’s face so that he could see her. Her hands are gentle but cold. Her smile is small. “But don’t worry little Princeling. I’m on your side.” She lets him go and knowing that he is making a rather pitiful face, the prince allows gravity to pull his head down.

Dimitri couldn’t find the words to respond to that and cried-- struggling to keep his whimpering down to a minimum to prevent Dedue from waking up. She was the first to believe in him! The first very one…. When Dimitri manages to lift his head one more time, he opens his mouth to ask her to hold him in her arms-- to tell him that everything will be okay.

But she was already gone.

* * *

“Seriously, again, Claude? Right before we leave?”

Tiana, formerly von Riegan, looks down on her son, who is currently sporting a massive, blazing red slap mark on his left cheek. The pain aches and Khalid (or rather, “Claude”) kind of regrets falling for the “I should at least give that girl enough respect to say my last goodbyes” line of thought.

“Last one, I promise.”

“You said that last time, goodness….” The Almyran queen pinches her nose. Ever since her son hit puberty, he’s been acting out-- hitting on girls and guys alike to the point where his brothers didn’t need to humiliate him to mar his reputation. Not that it ever became unsalvageable-- no, no, no. Almyra is just like Fodlan in that regard-- philandering isn’t enough to ruin a man with status, perhaps even less so around here. However, she is aware of Claude’s ambitions, and the very narrow margin of hope he has to achieve it is getting narrower if the general public looks down on him-- his background aside.

And it’s still true, but Tiana would be remiss if she ignored the fact that she had a part in it. Sometimes, she regrets telling Claude what his soulmark meant.

“Well, it will be if we leave today as planned. What’s up with the hold-up yesterday?”

“Nader had a hiccup with some bandits on the way here, apparently. You can ask him about it once we get in the carriage. Got all your things?”

“Already triple checked.” Most of his luggage had already been loaded. All he has on hand are the hidden knives underneath his clothes and a satchel filled with things to distract himself during the trip. Nader can only tell so many hilarious jokes before it becomes stale.

Tiana nodded. “Then, let’s go.”

The two walked to where the carriage was parked. Unlike the more official, royal carriages, this one is more plain, likely to not look too dissimilar from the merchants who come and go the same path they tend to follow. Fodlan, officially, is locked off from Almyra, with Fodlan’s Locket being the barrier that fends off Almyrans from crossing the border. However, for a long time, that didn’t stop merchants from both sides to seek profit from across the border, hoping to share and trade goods that they can’t find elsewhere. It’s an incredibly hidden and somewhat troublesome path depending on the weather, but Tiana herself used this path when she eloped with the king of Almyran in an incredibly exciting and romantic adventure. Or so they say.

Nader was waiting for them at the side of the carriage. For some reason, he’s wearing some rather unfamiliar clothes. It wasn’t hard to deduce that it was probably from Fodlan and honestly, Claude almost laughed at how ill-fitting it was. Or maybe he’s just not used to it. Regardless, Nader smiles at him like his usual self.

“What’s up, kiddo! Oh, and you, too, Your Majesty.”

“Call me Lady Tiana from here on out. Actually, just ‘lady’ is fine. Better safe than sorry.” Right, Tiana herself wants to keep her identity on the down-low. The only reason she’s coming along at all is that her old man is as cautious as ever and decided to take the “I’ll believe it when I see it approach” despite him being the one who sent the fucking letter in the first place. Pretty fucking backward, even for his standards, geez, she thought. Actually, he’s even more cautious now, isn’t he? Probably because ever since Godfrey up and died on him, Tiana guesses. Whatever, she’ll make this as quick as possible before one of the other wives trashes her room while she’s gone. Again.

“At your command, lady.”

“...Yeah, that’s fine.” Somehow, she should’ve expected it, but it sounded ruder than what she expected. Okay, maybe she isn’t the best at thinking ahead, but she rather be caught dead than go back on her word. 

Claude looks at her knowingly. With a mocking accent, he says “Ah, so that’s how it is. How long will our trip be, _lady_?”

Tiana jokingly slaps her son on the head. “Not you. You get the oh-so-exclusive privilege of calling me ‘Ma’ because, get this, I happen to be your mother.”

“Oh, Ma, I am so honored to be given such a rare privilege! I will not put it to waste, my one and only, ‘Ma’!”

“Now that’s just irritating. Don’t speak to me for the rest of the trip.”

Claude whimpers and puts on a puppy face because hey, it’s fun being an asshole sometimes, but Nader catches their attention by clapping his hands, putting an end to their little mother-son banter.

“Ms. Judith isn’t going to wait forever, so we should get going.”

“Ah, right. Let’s go, Claude.” It’s been a while since Tiana saw Judith, so she supposes that’s one positive she’ll get from this trip. After the three boarded the carriage, they finally departed. Nader is at the front with the horses, so it’s just Tiana and Claude at the back.

“Who’s Judith, ma?” Claude can’t say he heard the name before.

“Ah, right. I haven’t mentioned her to you. She’s a good friend from back then. We were classmates at the Officer’s Academy in Fodlan.”

“Officer’s Academy?”

“It’s a place where all of the noble brats go to learn about leadership and military arts. Well, some commoners also attend if they could somehow afford the tuition, but I think most of those people come to gain connections since they are probably like wealthy merchants or something. It was pretty fun, to be honest. Judith and I did all sorts of hijinks.” The memories of back then were nice, but Tiana remembered the shadow lurking over her younger self at the time-- countless letters and gifts from faceless suitors piling up on her desk like it’s the Garland Moon year-round. The daughter of the Alliance’s leading house was a prize, and so Tiana decided to at least make the game a long, difficult one. Surprisingly, someone did win-- her current husband, a man from the other side of the border. 

Tiana looked down at her son. He’s going to have a completely different experience, isn’t he?

“Huh. Will I have to attend?”

“Probably. The old man is preparing you to be his successor in order to save House Riegan from crumbling and it’s expected for the heirs of big houses to attend. I kinda understand why he’s so desperate-- if not for House Riegan, House Gloucester might take over as leader and from the little things I know about Count Gloucester, I don’t like him. An irritating, pompous man, if I ever saw one.”

Claude thinks about this academy his mother is talking about. As a royal, hated or not, he had private tutors to teach him military arts, language, mathematics, etc. He can’t imagine what it’s like sharing said tutors with others-- the image of his brothers in the same room as him as the tutor drones about derivatives is frankly anxiety-inducing. However, his future classmates won’t be his brothers-- it would be strangers. Foreign strangers. In some ways, it’s even more dangerous. It’s harder to battle amid the fog of war.

Which is why the more information he can get, the better. “Ma, what’s school like?”

“The Academy? Well, in terms of teaching, it’s a bit more specialized than what you got in the palace. Don’t worry about magic because if you don’t wanna study it, you don’t have to.”

“Oh, thank the gods.” Claude tried it once before since he thought it would be a convenient weapon-slash-tool to have, but his… lack of talent was noticeable when he struggled to lift a children’s book with wind magic after a month.

“Haha, yeah. Technically, it’s the professor’s job to evaluate your strengths and weaknesses and assign you what to study, but you can just pester them to change it up if you don’t like it. And! If you don’t like them as a person, you can just switch houses and get a different professor. Never had a problem with mine back in the day, but he was pretty forgettable. I don’t even recall his name.”

Claude tilted his head. “Houses?”

“Ah, right. I told you about how Fodlan is made up of three countries, right?”

“The Adrestian Empire, the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, and the Leicester Alliance, right?”

“Exactly. In the Academy, there are three houses assigned for each of the kids of each region: Black Eagles, Blue Lions, and Golden Deer. The Deer is for the Alliance, so you’ll probably be placed there by default.”

“Huh. What’s the point in that?”

“Officially, it’s to encourage teamwork and stuff. Since we do mock battles and the like, I say it’s a brilliant idea. Nothing is more encouraging than the chance to assert dominance over your fellow peers, haha.” His mother’s soft, but genuine laughter tells Claude that she definitely had ‘fun’ beating up her ‘peers’. Hell, maybe this whole academy thing will end up being fun. Lectures sure aren’t, but learning in itself is. And doing that inside a room full of peers around the same age is….

Claude looks down towards his left hand. Peers around the same age, huh.

Ever since his mother told him about the soulmark, the idea of ‘true love’ became a dangerous thing. He never thought about it until then, and yet, in a single moment, it became an enigmatic enemy. How would I know if I fell in love? Would they sparkle before my eyes? Would the sight of them induce a near heart attack? Questions like that become the building blocks of fear, and if this ‘soulmate’ is destined to either kill him or die by his hand, the least he can do is harden his heart. Stop being scared, Khalid, assess the situation.

Except, this isn’t a matter that can be solved with books. Anything he could find in the castle is useless or unreliable and the only guiding light he has on the matter is his mother’s words-- that ‘love’ is something you have to experience yourself. You have to _feel_ , not _think._

So… what now? He can’t seal off his heart completely and bury his head into the sand because what if his soulmate makes the first jump on him while he remains oblivious? No, he has to get a feel of what love is. He has to see what love looks like. And when he does-- when he finally knows for sure that what he feels is something special, he’ll take out his hidden dagger. Yes, there is no doubt in his mind. If he’s going to win this battle, he’ll have to be on the offensive from the very start. Who knows what his soulmate is up to? He won’t take any chances.

That’s why he plays around with the hearts of others. Perhaps it is cruel to use ordinary, lonely people as a practice range, and it does hurt to see that he is the cause of their tears, but… it’ll only get worse once he gets to Fodlan, right? When he has to do it for real, he has no choice but to have a cold heart if he wants to live-- if he wants to achieve his dreams. He’ll just have to get used to it.

His mother spoke of rejecting her father’s plea altogether because of his curse. It’s easy to put two and two together about why the soulmate curse is unheard of in Almyra but is in Fodlan-- something about that region is tied to the curse. The prince’s partner is likely from there, and if not, they’ll meet there. The prince wanted to go anyway. Their meeting would’ve been inevitable anyway, yes? He’ll deal with this as soon as possible-- get the jump on them before they suspect it. Running away from his brothers’ torment is also a plus.

His mom gave him a look, but she didn’t say no. Ever since he told her about why he runs out late at night, whispering false promises, and break hearts-- that all of this was to prepare for the inevitable, she always had this look on her that tells him that she didn’t believe a single word he said. She doesn’t believe that the prince’s ‘offensive’ strategy is all that ‘offensive’ for whatever reason. “Besides, even though I’m the one who said it was real, you’re not the type to believe these sort of things so easily,” she said. “It doesn’t matter how she feels”, is what the prince decided to conclude on.

“Hey, Claude.”

He looks up towards her. She’s looking through the window.

“Whatever you do there, don’t cause too much trouble, okay? And be careful.”

Claude didn’t bother voicing out his affirmation in words and settled with a dismissive grunt. You don’t need to tell me that, he thought. The ride remained silent until their next stop, leaving only the clatter of wheels rolling over the dirt to fill the space.

* * *

When Dimitri opened the door to the infirmary, Lady Cornelia was sitting by her desk, as per usual.

“Oh, Your Highness, you’re right on time.”

Cornelia greets the prince with her usual bright smile. With a magical instrument at hand, she pats the seat next to her, directing him where to sit. Dimitri complies. This has been routine for a while now ever since the Tragedy of Duscur. Dedue is here as well, given that Dimitri refuses to take his eyes off of him ever since a man attempted to assault the Duscuran boy in the “name of the Faerghus’s safety.” It’s all nonsense in Dimitri’s world, but others are too easily inclined to believe otherwise, and thus, his actions went off with little consequence under the regent’s ruling. The silver lining was that he’s been relocated away from the castle, but Dimitri, even now, feels nervous around his supposedly trusted knights. It’s ironic in the worst way possible. Royalty who can’t trust his own knights? Dimitri swears he read a tragic comedy about that.

Of course, he’ll deal with it for Dedue’s sake-- it’s the least he can do.

There was also something else in the room-- or rather, _someone_ else. Not far from Cornelia, was a four-year-old child turning five this year. He was sleeping soundly, far cry from the screams that echoed the hallways last night. Whatever Cornelia did to make him feel better, worked, and Dimitri couldn’t help but let a smile creep up at the sight of his half-brother’s peaceful face. Today is the last day he could see him before he departs for Garreg Mach, isn’t it?

Once Dimitri takes his seat, Cornelia straps the device around his arm. It’s supposed to read out magical signatures and notify any changes to the royal mage on a tablet that it’s connected to. Cornelia said that for the purposes of helping the prince, she invented it for his sake in hopes of a cure for his condition. Dimitri can’t say how it works exactly, given that magic, in general, is far from his expertise, but asking her to explain just resulted in an incomprehensible string of jargon, so he just accepted that whatever it is, it works. It takes some time for it to analyze his condition, so Cornelia decides to fill in the wait with small talk.

“How has your day been, little princeling?”

“It’s been alright. The weather has been rather nice as of late, so training outside with the knights today was fulfilling.”

“That’s good. Tomorrow is the big day, isn’t it? Are you nervous? I heard that your friends are going to be attending the Officer’s Academy.”

“I wouldn’t say that I’m nervous per se, but… I think that I’ll miss you. That’s all.”

Cornelia lets out a low laugh, bordering between mocking and genuinely touched. “Oh… you’re such a sweet boy. If I didn’t know any better, I would think that you’re just flattering me!”

“I can assure you that my sentiments are sincere. And, well….”

“Hmm?”

“To be honest, I’ve been thinking back on our previous conversations-- about the Church of Seiros, I mean.”

It was a point that was first brought up when the Church intervened in Kingdom affairs after the Tragedy. Because there was too much chaos after King Lambert’s assassination and Rufus was unprepared to quell it under his authority alone, the Church took over administrative and judicial affairs temporarily in the name of ‘aid’. Dimitri didn’t think much of it at the time because his opinion of his uncle wasn’t the highest and the Kingdom is undeniably starving, but after a brief conversation with Cornelia, his perspective started to change. Her words ring inside his ear as he recalls the memory.

“You know, princeling, it’s true that your uncle may not be the best fit to be ruler, but did you ever think about why that is?”

Uncle Rufus was the elder between him and King Lambert, but due to his lack of crest, the crown was handed towards the younger brother. The age gap between the two was not large, so for most of his life, Rufus knew that he was merely a backup. Would the pill be easier to swallow had he been the younger of the two? They cannot say, but it was obvious who was showered with love and affection and who was neglected. Over time, resentment built up as he cannot voice them publicly towards the future king, so he fell into vices and neglected his studies. “What’s the use of studies?” he probably thought. Lambert’s death was a shock and now, the lack of preparations on his end is “biting him in the ass” as Cornelia puts it.

“How did you know this?” asked Dimitri back then.

“Your father confided in me. Because he was so kind, he understood the root of his brother’s hidden anger and came up with a potential solution-- though some may so that it was a ridiculous one at that. In order for crestless nobles to not end up like Rufus or worse, perhaps the crest system should be abolished. He said that knowing that it’s that very system that gave him the power.”

“Father said that?”

“Yes. Of course, just like Fodlan’s views of the outside world, it was an easier said than done deal. There were a couple of attempts, but… it was obvious that from the court’s sentiments that it won’t work. Even if he forcibly declared it as law, it won’t be properly enforced. If he sent out his personal knights, he may be labeled a tyrant. Plus, Margrave Gautier was particularly emphatic about how crests were a necessity for House Gautier. They were classmates back then, so your kind father couldn’t bring himself to force his way in.” Cornelia spoke with little emotion with her typical smile, but at the time, Dimitri could only think back to a distant memory where his father told him that no king rules alone. The crown may come with power, but just like magic, it’s not an easy thing to wield.

“I see….”

“Of course, your father never gave up. It’s too bad that he met such a fate before it could bear fruit. So, little Dima, if it’s alright, would you like to continue where your father left off?”

Dimitri looked up, surprised by the mage’s sudden request. “Me?”

“Yes. The thing is, the crest system, which is rooted in the Church of Seiros’s teachings, causes more harm than just creating people like your uncle. Some are thrown away in the middle of Faerghus’s winter and others are abused for not being born with a crest. I heard that even now, the major reason why it stuck around for so long, despite it limiting and discouraging talented, crestless individuals from moving forward, was because it was what the Church demands.” Cornelia’s tone was suddenly low and pleading-- Dimitri almost couldn’t believe that it came out of Cornelia’s mouth. And yet, here she is, looking at him with creased brows and a tiny frown. Her hand rests on top of the prince’s. “I speak as someone who was born a crestless commoner. The reason I’m here at all is luck. Because restrictions in Enbarr schools loosened in regards to commoners. Because there was an entire nation in crisis. Because someone like King Lambert was the ruler.”

It was obvious who she was pushing the blame onto. Dimitri looked down onto her hand. “The Church is responsible for all of that?”

“Yes. The faith elevated those with crests as heroes, creating the noble houses we now know. But such power dwindles over time and now, the most vulnerable are left to suffer. It’s odd how the Church stands to benefit from tragedies, isn’t it? So, Dima, my princeling, don’t you think that the Church of Seiros back away from Kingdom affairs? It won’t be easy given how many houses are faithful, but this is what your father would’ve wanted.” 

The issues with the Crests were just the first of many reasons why the Church isn’t as “holy” as it seems. Stories about how the mismanagement of funds donated to the Church was caught going into the pockets of religious authorities, abuses by Church officials swept under the rug under the name of “keeping the peace” at the cost of justice, and more. Every now and then, Cornelia would bring up stories, most being hearsay from healers all over Faerghus since they report back to her, and tell the prince as part of their near-daily small talk. 

And now, after these past few years, Dimitri’s resolve has solidified. The Church must go.

As past memories were going through Dimitri’s mind, Cornelia finally spoke. “I see… but you still plan to attend, yes?”

“Of course. If possible, I want to gain evidence of the Central Church’s misdeeds. Thanks to you, we were able to put out some of the corruption in the Western Church, but as you said before, the root of it all is at Garreg Mach, isn’t it? As a student, I figured it would be easiest to look into the source.” As a child, Dimitri always had a strong sense of justice, but his reason to go to Garreg Mach is actually a bit more than what he’s telling Cornelia. If the Church is responsible for so much evil, then what’s stopping them from conducting something like the Tragedy? They did gain an incredible amount of power from the Kingdom because of it-- not only in the political world but also in the heart. Many sought guidance from the Church when the king fell, and remained as such, even when the Western Church was exposed. It’s easy to see a possible reason why the Church would orchestrate such a thing. They lost influence in the Empire after the incident with the Southern Church. Although it did allow the Central Church to absorb what the south once had, lost influence is still that-- lost influence.

Dimitri hadn’t told Cornelia about this theory since it had little hard evidence. If he goes to Garreg Mach, he could find it, and perhaps then the voices will finally quiet down. Permanently.

A dull whisper tickled his ears. Cornelia has done so much for him… even the voices are quieter after receiving her drugs. He needs to make sure he takes them on time at the Academy, as annoying as its side effects can be. He can't have her hard work go to waste.

Cornelia smiles. “How heroic of you, princeling. Which is why… are you sure you don’t want me to send someone with you? I have matters to attend to, but….” Dimitri knows what she’s talking about. Yesterday, Cornelia talked about sending one of her trusted white mages to aid the prince as his ‘personal healer’, but he rejected the idea. Not only would it look strange when the Officers Academy already has a physician (and potentially slight them), but in all honesty, Dimitri has a difficult time trusting any of the castle’s staff, even with Cornelia’s word. Faerghus’s white mages are notorious for their loyalty to the Church and Cornelia isn’t public about her doubts about them, so there’s is no guarantee that they wouldn’t out Dimitri’s investigation attempts to the Archbishop, putting loyalty to the church over their prince of a slowly crumbling nation.

“It’s alright, Cornelia. Dedue will keep me safe, remember?”

“Ah, of course.” The instrument on the prince’s arm glows green for a single moment, prompting the two to look down. “Ah, it’s done now,” she says. 

With a wave of her hand, a flat, rectangular magical projection forms before Dimitri’s eyes. He could not read the language written on it, but Cornelia looked at it intently with a serious face.

“Hmm… no good. It looks like those herbs from Albinea had no effect. After a month’s time, it’s safe to say that they had no effect. I apologize, Your Highness.”

“It’s alright. Did you not say before that 'most great things are achieved by personal sacrifice'? It’s only been four years. We still have time.”

“Yes, yes, but there is one thing that concerns me. It’s about your age.”

“My age?”

“You’re a growing man! Isn’t one’s teenage years typically where the exciting love stories happen? Within the castle, it’s probably safe to say that no one here is your soulmate, but at the Officer’s Academy? I wonder….”

Dimitri didn’t think about it. It’s true that he knew that he’ll meet a lot of unfamiliar people around his age, but the thought of falling in love and possibly being murdered by one of them is… suspiciously invoking less fear within him than expected.

“Don’t worry, I’ll try not to get romantically involved with anyone. The curse’s effect only makes it guarantee it to happen within my life span, but not exactly when, right? If I make choices to delay it from happening, I’m sure you’ll find a solution by then. I promise I won’t put your hard work to waste.” Dimitri’s and Cornelia’s research found that although most deaths under the soulmate curse happen during early adulthood, a few stories involved the deaths happening much later. One case involved a murder-suicide with a couple around the age of fifty. It’s tragic all the same, but the possibility of it happening so late means there is some wiggle room for their race against the clock.

That’s why even if Dimitri were to find out that his soulmate is a student, church employee, or otherwise at the Officer’s Academy, it’s not game over.

“Oh, and one last thing.” Cornelia stood up and walked towards the child. Dimitri followed. “It’s too bad that he’s sleeping now, but he’ll probably wake soon. Come see little Allie after you pack up, okay? He’ll be in his room by then.”

“Of course. Thank you for taking care of him for all this time, Cornelia.”

Cornelia’s smile didn’t grow larger nor did it lessen. “Anything for you, little princeling. I’ll take good care of your brother while you’re gone.”

Prince Albert Adeline Blaiddyd was the result of Dimitri’s soulmark in a way. It was kept a secret to everyone except for the royal family’s inner circle like Gustave and Rodrigue, as well as Cornelia, who was tasked to find a cure. However, without a backup plan, uneasiness permeated the air, and the pressure on King Lambert’s back to at least have a second child was near back-breaking. After all, who will inherit the throne if Prince Dimitri ends up being murdered? Rufus was not a wise choice in their eyes. It was only until the arrival and marriage of Lady Patricia, who is actually Lady Anselma of the Empire, did the pressure find release. It took a while, but a new prince was indeed born, even though he was ultimately crestless. Dimitri didn’t really care back then. He was just excited to be an older brother like Glenn was. He swelled up with wonder when Albert took his first steps and said his first words. It’s tragic how his parents passed before they could see any of that.

Dimitri wanted to caress the top of his head, but refrained, not trusting his own strength. Just like El, Al was the last of his family. He wants to, at the very least, live long enough so that the boy has a brother-- family, to remember, so he has no choice but to believe in Cornelia and her craft.

As check-up is being wrapped up, Dimitri and the silent Dedue depart from Cornelia’s office. They need to pack up for their departure tomorrow and after that is lunch. The prince looks towards his vassal and asks, “How are you, Dedue? Feeling well?” 

There was one thing that bothered Dimitri, though it might be nothing. Despite Cornelia being a known ally, Dedue never became close to her the same way the prince had. Granted, Dedue has every reason to prefer staying silent than speak up with castle staff whenever possible, but sometimes Dimitri feels like Cornelia, despite being so talkative, is simply not interested in Dedue. Sure, the whole soulmate business might be more interesting to a scholar like her, but even so, it’s concerning whenever Dedue refuses to speak on whether he feels ill or not when a doctor is right there, willing to help.

“I’m fine, Your Highness. If anything else, I would like to ask if you are.”

“Of course, I am. If I wasn’t, I would’ve told Lady Cornelia just earlier, wouldn’t I?”

“That is true.” Dedue looks behind him towards the door to the court mage’s office. “Lady Cornelia is… quite open with you, isn’t she?”

“She is. Is there… something wrong?

“...It is nothing. I’m probably just overthinking things.”

“If you say so.” 

They went onwards to pack up, but despite Dimitri’s words, Dedue’s gaze lingered at the royal mage’s office, uneasy and uncertain, until it was finally out of sight.


End file.
